It was cold and slick, but she struggled upthe hill anyway, her breath laboring in her lungs, the rocks bitinginto her feet. She had left the house without her shoes; there hadbeen no time to even slip on a pair of sandals. Her heart poundedas though it would escape from her chest, or perhaps choke her; herlegs were shaking so badly, it was hard to keep them moving.

The night was dark around her. She couldn’tsee where she was going, only that the ground was slanted, so sheknew that it must be up the mountain. She didn’t care. She had toget away, had to escape that cabin and the horrible man inside ofit.

She was only eleven, but her home had beenhell for a long time.

The rain kept pouring and she kept moving.Time passed – she wasn’t sure how long, an hour, maybe more, juststruggling through the endless bushes and fallen logs. She fellonly once, twisting her ankle on a slick rock, but even that didnot stop her; the limb felt heavy and swollen, but she couldn’tbring herself to slow down. She was panicked, running away from adanger that was as silent and unseen as the night itself. There wasno one behind her, but memory alone was enough to lend wings to herfeet.

Finally she could go no farther. Shecollapsed at the base of a tree, her breath heaving, so tired thatshe thought she would throw up. She pressed her back against therough, wet bark, feeling the rain drip down between the thick pinetrees. She closed her eyes, struggling to regain her breath,calming herself and the terror that writhed within her. Her facefelt hot – she pressed the back of her hand against her cheek wherethe bruise still stung, a blow that had been dealt to her only anhour before. It was one bruise out of many. The beatings had beengoing on for a long time now, ever since her mother had died a fewyears ago. At first her stepfather had tried to be patient, onlypinching her and grabbing her hair when he was drunk or angry. Butthen his control had slipped, and now she knew him for the monsterhe was — not the man who had once loved her mother.

She curled up into a tighter ball, an attemptto protect herself from the memories. She had to run away, but sheknew she couldn’t go any farther, couldn’t survive outside of herstepfather’s home. She was only eleven – what could a child do?

Abruptly a sound reached her ears. Sheflinched, her heart leaping to her throat again, and pressedherself even closer to the tree. She looked around, her eyes wideand sightless in the dark. Where had it come from? There weremountain lions and wolves this high up, but she was sure theywouldn’t make any noise if they planned on attacking her. She wouldprobably already be dead. Had her stepfather followed her? The ideawas ludicrous. She had run for so long, he couldn't possibly benear.

There it was again – a crunch and rustle,like something moving through the underbrush, a slight pause andthen another twig snapping. A bear, maybe? She hoped not; she wouldbe absolutely helpless against an animal so large.

There was silence. It stretched for a longtime until she thought that perhaps the intruder had left, maybe adeer scared off by her smell… then suddenly a shape moved in theshadows directly next to her, and she leapt back, a muffled screamripping from her throat.

A hand landed on her shoulder out of thedarkness.

She turned and stared upward with wide eyes,struggling not to scream. The figure moved closer and suddenly shecould make it out; a man or a boy, she couldn’t be sure of the agein the dark, only that his long black hair was slick with rain andhis white shirt had the grungy look of a hiker.

His green eyes smiled down at her, strangelyvisible in the dark, and immediately she felt her chest loosen. Herbreathing became easier. Somehow, though she wasn’t sure why, shesuddenly felt like she was safe.

“What is a little thing like you doingall the way out here?” he asked quietly, his voice rough anddeep.

She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenlyno words would come out. She didn’t know what to say. She thoughtback to her stepfather, to the warm cabin in the woods where shehad been struggling with her homework before his drunken tantrum.How could she tell a stranger about what had really brought herthis deep into the forest? How could she tell him that she didn’twant to go home?

She couldn’t hide forever, though. Her fatherwould come looking for her in the morning, as he always did, andthen there would be worse punishment.

“I got lost,” she whispered, herthroat closing on the lie; she felt choked.

The young man just smiled and took her hand,gently pulling her to her feet. Suddenly she wobbled and let out asmall cry; she had forgotten her twisted ankle from her fall in thewoods, and it seemed that the brief rest had brought the pain backfull force. She staggered, but already his arms were around herknees and picking her up, lifting her high into the air to nestleher against his strong chest. She hated being touched or carried,but somehow she could tolerate him. She felt safer being held thanon the ground.

“Let’s get you home.” The man’s voicewas soft and warm, deep and soothing. He started walking, andsuddenly exhaustion hit her, making her head swoon against hisshoulder.

The last thing she remembered, other thanthe fresh smell of his shirt, was a glimpse at the ground and thesight of the man’s feet. He wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Chapter 1

School sucked, but work sucked worse.

Maddy hated her school and who wanted tostudy with a drunk, abusive stepfather roaring around the houseanyway? Between her chores and doding flying bottles, she didn’thave any time for homework. And then her job… putting up withbitchy customers all day at the local hardware store was not heridea of a fun time, and then her father took all but a smallpercentage of her wages. For booze and gambling, of course. Nomoney for a car or even to take the bus. She was lucky to afford asandwich for lunch.

And so she walked home. Her feet hurt from standing at acash register all day, but it was a familiar ache. At leaststanding at a cash register was better than being around the house.The streets of Black River were small and homey, with tiny housesand big yards, most of which were wild and unmowed. This was thepoorer district of town, where most people parked broken down RV’sin their front yards and the asphalt was cracked and decaying. Shepassed down another block now. Half of the yards contained rustycars and tire swings hanging from spindly trees, their barebranches clicking in the wind. Technically this was the scenicroute to her house – she could have cut through the main street oftown and arrived at her cabin in the forest within twenty minutes.However, she always took this detour… because this washisstreet, and walkingdown it made each day a little bit less sucky.

There was his house now. She still didn’thave the guts to ring his doorbell; other than the times he foundher out on the mountain, cold and usually wet from rain or fog, shedidn’t share many words with him. Sometimes he came by the store,and then he would smile at her, with those beautiful green eyes andthe long dark hair, and her toes would curl a little. Yes, therewas an age gap, technically eighteen-year-olds shouldn’t be staringat men who were in their late twenties (or was it thirty already?She had never had an opportunity to ask), but she couldn’t help it.He was tall, ripped, tattooed and everything a man should be. Ifonly she could convince him that she was a woman too, and not thescared little girl that kept running up mountains at night.

Maddy sighed. His car, a beat up old Camaro,wasn’t in his driveway. No chance of a casual ‘hello’ today.Whatever.

She scuffed her dirty tennis shoes on thesidewalk and kept walking, glancing up at the intersection ahead.She paused. A small groan escaped her lips. Dammit.

There, standing on the corner, were threeskinny, blond, magazine-type girls flirting around the stop sign,chewing gum and sticking their hips out at cars. She bit her lip indistress and glanced around, looking for a detour, but of coursethere was none – unless she wanted to cut across someone’s yard,but that would be too obvious, and she wasn’t about to give themthe satisfaction of seeing her run. Instead she shoved her hands inthe pockets of her old hoodie and walked a little faster. Thequicker she got through the intersection, the quicker she could getpast them… and maybe they’d be so busy flirting with traffic thatthey wouldn’t notice her.

It was too much to hope for. One of thebleached-blond girls turned at the last minute and saw her coming,and a wide smile split her face, without an ounce of friendlinessin it.

“Heeey lookie there!” she crowed,grabbing her friend by the shoulder. “It’s Muddy Maddy, with hernew jacket and Prada shoes!”

“Nice hair, Maddy! Did you wash ittoday?” the other girl sneered, then they both screeched withlaughter. Maddy bit the inside of her cheek to stop fromretaliating. She had already been down to the police station twicethis semester for fights in school, and it was only October. Onemore strike and she was on probation.

“Come on girls,” the third one, Alex,their ringleader, said. She smiled at Maddy, a look that was colderthan the chill Autumn wind. “We don’t need to get her germs on us.Where are you off to, Maddy? Home to your daddy? I hear he’s beenup at Art’s Liquor Store again… hear your old man lost hisjob.”

If he’d ever had one. But Maddy didn’t saythat part. She just waited for the traffic to stop and startedacross the street, not giving them the satisfaction of an answer.The girls continued laughing, calling names at her back, then morecrude jokes – laughing at her shaggy auburn hair and patchedclothing. She didn’t stop biting her lip until she was well downthe next block; by that time, she had imagined every possiblescenario of her fist flying into Alex Holder’s face.

She turned toward the mountainside; it loomedabove the town of Black River, a constant sentinel. Her cabin waslocated right on the fringes of the forest, where it was unclearwhether civilization really continued. It was starting to get dark,though it was only about 5pm; this time of year it got dark andstayed dark for a very long time. Maddy liked it that way.Something about the night always made her feel safer, like she hada place to hide.

There was snow at the very tiptop of themountain, though it hadn't made its way to Black River yet. Soonthe snow would make its way down to the hills, and then the town ofBlack River would be all but isolated from the world. It was a timeof year she both enjoyed and dreaded. Enjoyed for the isolation.Dreaded, because her midnight escapes would be all but impossible,and suicidal at best. The temperatures dropped to well belowfreezing in the winter.

She crossed another street and kept walking.Nothing else to do.

* * * *

Her father still wasn’t home.

She was happy, but at the same time, afraid.Because it wasn’t expected. And when things weren’t expected, theyusually turned out painful. So she sat on the couch with theiranalog TV and tried to watch the news; nothing but weather reports.Then she made dinner, swept up the small living room and kitchen,straightened out his bedroom, and made up the couch where sheslept. But still he hadn’t arrived. It had been almost two hours,and full night was upon her. Where could he have gotten to? Hehadn’t mentioned leaving Black River to go to the nearby casino inDavenport, the next town over. For all of his nasty tendencies, heusually let her know when he would be gone so she could do whateverchores he wanted before he got back.

It was another fifteen minutes before shethought to check the phone messages. The light was on, soapparently someone had called. She hit play.